


that domestic phanservice

by winchysteria



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7110373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchysteria/pseuds/winchysteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-tour shameless fluff. Dan's doing a liveshow. Phil's on too much cold medicine to particularly care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that domestic phanservice

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with the staying up too late writing fanfic  
> [and here i am on tumblr!](http://winchysteria.tumblr.com/)

"So I haven't eaten yet, which I don't really have an excuse for. I've just been rewatching bits of  _Attack on Titan_ all day, gave myself a free pass for that one," Dan says, which is most of the truth.

He's actually given himself a free pass for each of the three days since they've been back from tour. After the way he'd death-walked through the front door, collapsed on his bed for twelve hours, and woken up still tired, it just feels justified. Today, he and Phil just cued up CrunchyRoll and burrowed into the sofa.

" _Is this gonna be one of_ those _liveshows_ , asks Maddy," Dan says as he walks his laptop from bedroom to kitchen. "Why yes, it is. Cooking with Dan, which is always informative and exciting."

He sort of tries to be quiet as he situates the computer in the cupboard, but mostly for the people wearing headphones. Phil wouldn't wake up if Dan dragged him to the kitchen, laid him out on the floor, and then dropped every pot and pan they owned six inches away from his head. "Anyway, today won't be very instructional, because I'm lazy and we have pasta sauce in a can. Remember, kids, when it comes to cooking, the goal is minimal effort."

Dan turns away and starts a pot of water boiling. For all that he jokes about not being able to take care of himself, he does get a little warm, grown-up glow from cooking casually. "And now, children, we're turning the indoor flame up very, very high, so that the metal thing with mysterious stains on it can make the potion release gases."

He's turned back to the laptop by now, unscrewing a jar of tomato sauce and squinting through the questions. "We'll leave that for a little bit.  _How was tour_ , says somebody, tour was great." Exhausting as it was, he still can't help grinning when someone brings up tour. "I'm so, so tired, and I still haven't totally unpacked, but it was really, really fun. I loved meeting you guys and seeing all the weird parts of America and eating more IHOP than any one man ever should. Ruins the voice, though. If you can hear, I'm still a little hoarse, actually."

As true as all of this is, Dan's still incredibly grateful to be home. He had missed familiar pillows and having free time and lazy days with Phil-- not days off between shows but real ones, drizzly gray London ones where he doesn't feel any pressure at all to go out and sightsee. He had missed the kitchen, because really it's getting undeniably obvious that he's turned into a domestic throw pillow of a human. He missed having sex on sheets that hadn't been slept on by every oily American tourist and their mother.

He clears his throat and sets the tomato sauce back on the counter.

"And for that, and to celebrate my return back to Britishland, UK, might as well make some tea while we're boiling water." He grabs the kettle, checks the chat again before he goes to fill it with water. " _Where's Phil_ , says Avery. Phil's actually-- well, I think it's funny, but you're all gonna have my head on a stick for laughing at it-- Phil caught something on the plane ride home. We were sat across the aisle from this very cute baby and her mum, and Phil _had_ to have the aisle seat so he got all the microbes and everything. He's been basically a human-sized used tissue for the past three days. He's disgusting."

The kettle is on, and that's when the pasta water starts to boil over, and he sort of forgets about the liveshow for a moment trying to do damage control. "Basic Cooking with Danisnotonfire," he sings tunelessly as he doesn't quite an oven mitt on fire, but comes close. "Sorry I'm a bit of a mess today, but that's not really anything new, is it?"

He pulls mugs out of the cupboard, tends to the various containers of boiling water, puts some of the pasta sauce in the microwave. " _You're making extra tea is it for Phil_ , I just saw. Yes, I am, because I'm just thoughtful that way. Delivering that domesticity with every YouNow."

The face he makes for the camera is funny and sarcastic, but tea _is_ essentially the only thing Phil ever wants when he's sick. And that's easy enough, honestly; he would be kind of a crap friend or roommate not to, much more so a crap boyfriend. "I might as well drink them both myself, if we're being honest, he's about fifty percent cold medicine and fifty percent snot and he's been sleeping like the dead for like an hour. Even if he hears the kettle, he'll be either too tired to care or too loopy to stand."

He waffles through a few more questions and hunts down the frozen meatballs-- "you know, some really authentic Italian fare to help me recover from all the American garbage." And then they want to know about the doughnuts, the pancake cupcakes, the fishbowl cocktails from Vegas. When the kettle goes off, he listens carefully in the direction of the living room, but there isn't any stirring.

"Well at  _this_ point, I feel like it'd be terrible parenting for me to show you a Vegas vlog. After everything I put you through with the last one, you might well have a heart attack." This sets off a flurry of theories, and he's so caught up watching them and giggling that he almost doesn't notice Phil coming in. "Hello, sleeping beauty," he says, probably smiling in the way they've got all those gifs about. "I'm sure you want to come on camera."

In fairness to Dan, Phil looks adorably bewildered. He's swaddled in an entire duvet, head just barely peering out, with that quiff he gets in his sleep jutting off to the left. There are somehow pillow lines on both sides of his face. "D'I wha'?" he asks blearily.

"Aw, you're like one of those newborn cats who can't see yet," Dan says off-handedly, heart bumping up against the front of his chest in fondness. He'd always thought that would go away with time, but it hasn't. "You'd be useless in a fight."

Phil seems to have gotten the vague idea that he's being made fun of, and now he's pouting. "I made you tea," Dan concedes, holding up the mug, and that's something Phil understands. There are little bloops emanating from the laptop, probably a few irritated messages about being ignored, but he thinks the rest are just people agreeing with his internal assessment that Phil's absurdly cute.

He takes a second to process that he has to walk, then another to figure out how to move his legs without tripping over the duvet. It's probably the longest five-foot walk anyone's ever taken in their lives, and Dan's enamored enough to think it's the greatest thing he's seen today. "Thanks, Dan," Phil mumbles as he takes the mug, then leans forward to peck him on the mouth.

They could have  _almost_ gotten away with it. It was short and Phil was stoned out of his gourd on NyQuil and there weren't quite as many people watching the YouNow as there could be, he thinks, realizing immediately that he hasn't looked at the computer screen at all in about five minutes. And anyway, they would have been given away by the rest of it, the way Dan closed his eyes and kissed back out of habit; the way he'd chased after the softness and the warmth of post-nap Phil just that little bit, even though he's sick and congested. There is especially the fact that he's still looking away from the screen, watching Phil shuffle out of the kitchen with a level of fondness that's suspicious on a good day and downright incriminating after that.

The laptop is dinging frantically now, and he closes his eyes for a second to think about how much he doesn't want to deal with that. "Phil," he calls in a remarkably steady voice.

"Y'can just edit that out, can't you?" Phil replies, still shuffling out.

Dan inhales deeply and glances into at the laptop camera just long enough to comment, "Well, that was less nervewracking than any of the big reveals we'd talked about." He looks back to his boyfriend. " _Phil_ , love, that was a _liveshow-_ "


End file.
